Cold.

That was all I felt.

It ran through my entire body, swirling in my bloodstream and traveling to my nerves. Just this frigid cold that took all breath away. It crackled with life, but it hissed death.

I moved my head slightly, too weary to do much else. I was just tired. Everything hurt. Everything weighed the same as lead.

Raoul.

Was he okay? Had he woken up? Was he... wherever I was?

Preferably alive? Alive is always good.

I breathed in slightly. Evergreen. The world smelled like evergreen.

So, I'm cold and I smell evergreen. Have I turned into a Christmas tree or something?

Slowly, I peeled open my eyes. Instead of the blinding yellow light I anticipated, crystal blue sparkled from the room. Snow-white flowers covered the walls. Delicate snowflakes of glass hung from the ceiling, gently swaying back in forth.

Definitely not the forest.

I gripped the side of my bed tightly. It didn't vanish at my force, so real it was.

Not dreaming and...

I pinched my arm. Pain shot through it.

...not dead.

Carefully, I sat up. If I wasn't dreaming, then where on earth was I? I'd never seen a place like this before.

On that note, where was Nutcracker? Where was--

"Raoul," I breathed. All thoughts of my brother surfaced to my mind, along with the anger at Nutcracker.

Don't mind him, Clair. Find Raoul.

I brushed off the blanket that covered me with a huff. My breath formed a cloud, then dissipated in the chill air.

At least, I guessed it was cold. The temperature felt fine to me.

I hopped off the bed and onto the floor. The ground was as slick as glass. I grinned a little at the memory of the last slippery floor I was on. The alarmed face of Kir was something I didn't want to forget anytime soon.

A pang hit my chest. Was he even still alive, or had he died along with the castle?

A voice in the back of her mind cackled. The captain always goes down with the ship--even if that ship is a kingdom.

Pain shot through my head. I sucked in a breath and touched my forehead with the tips of my fingers. Something felt off. Wrong.

Like I wasn't just me anymore. Like I was more.

Footsteps thumped on the floor outside. "...need to keep her calm. We don't want a chance of Miralis coming into effect."

Miralis?

The footsteps came closer to the door. I scurried over to the wall and pressed my ear against it.

The voice changed from one I recognized to a calm, female one. "You do realize that she attacked you, do you not, Prince?"

Prince? Who was "prince?" The only person I may have possibly "attacked" was Nutcracker, and he was a block of wood.

"Neo mec nimes aso! Noch biyein fürcipe."

I blinked. That was definitely not any language I understood. It actually sounded Dulcian. There was no doubt in my mind, however, that the person who had just spoken was Nutcracker.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Elora. That just--it makes me think."

Elora--or at least that's who I guessed--laughed. "It's alright. Besides, I've been told thinking can be a dangerous pastime."

Nutcracker chuckled. "I know."

The doorknob turned with a click. Quickly, I reached out and grabbed whatever was closest to me--which happened to be a candlestick sitting on the desk to my right. As soon as I saw a foot step into the room, I brought the candlestick down, hard.

It hit my target with a clunk. I didn't wait to see Nutcracker's reaction. I just high-tailed it out the door and underneath the Elora-lady's outstretched arms.

I ran down the hall quickly, my bare feet catching on the stones beneath me. While the room I was in had beautiful glass and ice-like decorations, the hallway was slightly better than an abandoned castle.

I glanced at a long scratch down one of the stone walls, then turned my attention back to where I was going.

Crap.

The floor turned from stone to the slick glass beneath my feet, sending me sliding into the wall face-first. I fell onto my back and groaned, trying to catch my breath.

Great job, genius. Want to try that stunt while going down the steps?

Before I made up my mind to move, I was pulled back. My body slid across the floor, toward the room I had run out of.

"What on earth?" I cried. "Cut it out!"

Slowly, my body straightened itself. My feet barely brushed the stone floor as I dangled in the air like a puppet.

I looked up from the ground and glared at the person in front of me. The woman looked incredibly familiar with her pale face and silver- blue hair.

"You're the one who put me to sleep. You're Elora." I said.

It wasn't a question, but the lady nodded a "yes."

Nutcracker hobbled out of the room. He pointed to Elora, then at his back. She grinned and grabbed the edge of the lever, yanking it up.

"Thanks," he muttered. Nutcracker turned to me. "Are you okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why wouldn't I be? What on earth would give you the idea that I wouldn't be okay?"

He sighed. "I gathered as much." He limped closer to me. I glanced at his knee. A long, deep slice of wood had been taken out from the center.

Nutcracker stopped about a foot away. "How do you feel?"

"Like a puppet."

He laughed. "If you promise not to run or hit me again, Elora can let you go."

He gestured to the silver woman. She waved slightly. "Hello."

I took a deep breath. "Please. Just let me move."

Elora waved her arm in the air. I sighed in relief, my feet finally on the sweet, sweet ground.

I crossed my arms. "Where are we?" I asked Nutcracker.

"With the Lumita Fiannu."

The Fiannu. I stared at Elora. "You're a Lumita-whatever?"

Elora nodded. "Yes."

"How long have we been here?"

"About a day," Nutcracker answered.

A day. So that meant that...

"Where's Raoul?"

Nutcracker turned away. "Aren't you hungry? You need food."

I caught his voice catch on "hungry." My heart jumped. "No, I want my brother. Where is he?"

That time, Elora touched my arm. Her hands were warm. "Clair, please. You need to eat."

"No!" I backed away from the two. My throat constricted. "I want my brother!"

"Clair--"

"Where is Raoul?" I screamed. Tears pricked my eyes. They would tell me was dead, I was sure of it. He was dead and gone and I was alone. I slid down the stone wall and buried my head in my hands. As many times as I had been aggravated by him, there was no one I wanted more at that moment.

"If he's dead, just say it," I gasped with my head still in my arms. "Don't leave me waiting. Just say it and get it over with."

I could almost hear the silence. Finally, a creak of wood made me look up. Nutcracker touched my shoulders lightly. "Is that what's wrong?" he whispered. "You think Raoul is..."

A tear slipped out. I nodded my head quickly. "Just tell me."

"He's alive."

"What?"

Elora stepped closer to me and Nutcracker. "I--the Fiannu--we can heal wounds infected with Murae venom." She stared pointedly at me. "You should thank your friend for figuring out a way to get you here."

Nutcracker turned his head to the side. "You're welcome."

I stood and stepped away from the boy. "How did he help?" I asked. My eyes narrowed. "All he did was lie and cause this mess."

Nutcracker sighed. "Clair, if you'd have known, you'd have panicked."

"How do you know that?" I cried indignantly. "I most certainly wouldn't have!"

He laughed. "Excuse me, then. Your little flight from the room and cry on the floor there wouldn't prove anything."

I opened my mouth to retort, but shut it again, at a loss of what to say.

He's right, you know.

Shut up. You aren't helping.

"Why can't I see him?"

Elora nodded like she knew the question was coming. "Our process for healing these sorts of injuries is... complex to say the least. It takes a lot of concentration."

I stared at the woman. Elora was younger than I first thought--she was maybe twenty or so. Her long, silver hair fell down to the waistband on her snowy white dress. Her almond-shaped eyes were a light blue that seemed to be constantly laughing. On the side of her cheek, a thin line--almost like a scar--was carved to resemble a snowflake.

"You use magic?" The question really didn't need to be answered. From my experience hovering in midair, I had gotten a fairly good idea.

Elora looked away. "A type of it, yes."

"I thought that magic couldn't heal people."

Nutcracker shook his head. "It can, but depending on the injury, it's risky."

"Oh." I pushed myself up from the ground. A blazing pain shot through my head, blurring my vision. Red swarmed in front of my eyes and spiraled out of control.

"Ah!" I cried. I bent over, clutching at my head. Vaguely, I felt a soft hand touch my arm.

Muffled voices called to me, but I couldn't make out what they said. The grays and blacks of the stone floor blurred to a big blob.

A sharp voice cut through the fuzziness. Mmh. You're a strong one.

I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring Nutcracker and Elora. The voice--it was the same one that I'd heard earlier.

I'm lucky. Sometimes we get weaklings. The others will be sooo jealous when they find out.

But there were no other people in the hallway but me, Nutcracker, and Elora.

C'mon, Clair, think.

I froze. The voice wasn't someone who spoke. It was me. I was thinking it.

But I wasn't. I hadn't been thinking those things.

Figuring it out yet, child?

"Clair!"

The headache vanished. I snapped my eyes open and found myself staring into the painted brown ones of Nutcracker. I took a deep breath. My eyes flicked down to my hand. It shook uncontrollably.

Nutcracker backed away like he'd been shocked. I turned my head to ask Elora what was wrong and stopped.

They both stared at me like I'd done something.

"What?" I asked. "What'd I do?"

Please don't tell me I said those creepy things out loud.

Elora smiled sadly. She pointed to the wall I leaned against.

I twisted around so I could see what the big deal was about and froze. The wall, which had been stone seconds before, had turned to ice. Thin hairline cracks cut across sections of the frozen stone, making it look like there were bricks stacked together.

Gently, I reached out and brushed my fingertips against it. What should've been cold felt warm.

"I did that?" I squeaked. "That was me?"

Nutcracker found his voice first. "Curly..." he whispered. "I'm sorry."

I bit her lip. "Why are you sorry? What's to be sorry about?" I flipped my hands over so I saw my palms. They looked normal.

Well, except for the panicked shaking.

"Remember what I told you in the forest? About magic?"

I nodded my head quickly. "I remember a lot of what you told me in the forest. Magic included."

The image of an icicle hitting Nutcracker's chest popped into my mind. My hand tingled. "Oh," I whimpered. "I did that. In the forest, with the icicle." Tears pricked at my eyes as I stared at the boy. "That was me."

My chest tightened. Magic. I was using magic.

Or magic was using me.

Elora grabbed my shoulder. "Calm down," she demanded.

I brushed her off. "What is this? What's happening to me?"

"Curly, please. If you don't calm down--" Nutcracker waved his hands in the air, "--that happens again."

"And if you don't tell me what's going on, I apparently might blow up!" I thrust my hands to the side. "Explain. Now."

"Have you ever heard of Miralis?"

"Only about, maybe, five minutes ago when you and Elora were talking. Yes, I was eavesdropping," I added at Elora's surprised face.

"She's one who would do that," Nutcracker said. He looked back at Elora and shrugged.

"So you've heard of it, but don't know much about it?" he asked, turning his attention back to me.

"I don't know anything about it."

"Okay." He sighed and scratched the back of his head. Wood scratched together lightly. "It's a relatively new term, although Miralis has been around for centuries. There are two different types of it--natural and forced."

I gulped. "And?"

Elora turned her head to the side. "Have you been hearing voices? Ones that are in your head, but not you?"

My breath caught. Of course I had heard a voice. It was the one that laughed at the concept of Kir's death. It was the one that sounded like a snake gliding over silk.

"No," I lied. "I haven't."

Nutcracker let out a breath of air. "That's good," he laughed. It came out forced. "It means you have more time."

My stomach clenched. "Time?"

Nutcracker nodded again, suddenly solemn. "Miralis is very rare. Forced Miralis was basically a form of torture a few centuries ago and isn't practiced at all today, to our knowledge. Natural Miralis is even rarer. There have only been a few cases recorded over--what?" He turned to Elora.

"Five hundred years?" she answered.

I shook my head. "What does this have to do with me?"

Nutcracker and Elora shared a look. He turned to me. "You know, Curly. You aren't stupid."

My hand flew to my mouth. Bile rose up in my throat, the acid stinging my mouth.

"Am I going to die?"

"No," Elora cut in. "Natural and Forced Miralis are drastically different in the way they work. With Forced, since the person affected is always older and has had no previous magic experience, they have a high chance of dying. Natural Miralis is different. If it's caught, the all the person has to do is use up the excess magic."

"What does Miralis do?"

Nutcracker spoke first. "It happens when someone has been overloaded with magic. With Forced, the person develops--well--basically a second personality. The second personality--which is the magic, but given a voice--eventually takes the person over. The more magic they use, the worse it gets. The more they feel, the worse it gets. The more they do just about anything, the worse it gets."

I stood. "And Natural?"

"We think it's about the same thing, but all you have to do is to get rid of the extra magic in you. Natural Miralis is caused when the body is overloaded. Magic that has been dormant in the person multiplies and needs somewhere to go."

I stared at the ice on the wall. There was a great big "but" at the end of Nutcracker's sentence; I was sure of it.

"And?" I whispered. I clutched my side tightly, like my grip would hold me together.

"Well, magic as strong as yours is... rare. It's not just a 'poof, you have magic' kind of thing. Yours would come from a family member. A father. A mother."

I stared at Nutcracker, the direction of the conversation slowly dawning on me. "What are you implying?"

He rocked back and forth on his feet. If his face could have moved, he would have been grimacing. "Who were your parents?"

_______________________________________

Ah, fantasy land lore.

If I manage to keep track of all this, it'll be a miracle.

I got the name "Miralis" from "mirror." Since it's like a mirror of the person's good side (making it bad).

Yeah, it made sense in my head.

It's pronounced "Mer (like mermaid) alice." "Mer-alice." Just thought I'd add that. It was originally going to be "Miranis" or "Moranis," but then I realized that there was an actor who had that last name.